


All May, Some Should, None Must

by scarlet_ultraviolet



Series: All and More [2]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Celibacy, First Dates, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Misunderstandings, Priest Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Religion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:08:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28066740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarlet_ultraviolet/pseuds/scarlet_ultraviolet
Summary: “Is he even gay?”Joe gapes at him. “He agreed to go out with me so I fucking think so, Booker.Jesus Christ.”“Ah, yes, and how doesHefeel about this?” Andy deadpans.Or: Joe and Nicky start dating, and even more misunderstandings ensue. Sequel toAll of the Pageantry, None of the Guilt.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: All and More [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2055810
Comments: 139
Kudos: 401





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven’t read the first fic in this series, you’ll want to start there before reading this.  
> 
> 
> Title is a popular phrase in Anglican/Episcopal circles, mostly to do with the rite of confession.

“A priest. You hit on a _priest_.”

“I think we’ve established that already.”

“And he agreed to go out with you?” The man sitting across from Joe laughs and makes a show of looking up at the sky, despite the fact that there’s an umbrella leaning over the table they’ve grabbed outside the museum café. “I’m surprised God hasn’t struck you down yet.”

Joe grinds his teeth together. “I _told_ you, he’s an Episcopal priest, Booker.”

“Yeah, but… Joe. Come on.”

Joe’s eyebrows raise as if to say, _well_? Booker guffaws, and the two colleagues have a stare-off until Booker can’t stand it any longer.

“A _priest_ , Joe!”

“What’s this about a priest?” comes a voice to their left, and then Quynh sits down at their little table and makes herself comfortable.

“Hey, Quynh. Where’s the wife?”

Joe rolls his eyes. Just what he needs: an audience. Because with Quynh, of course, comes –

“Right behind you, fucker,” says the wife, startling Booker and making Joe smile for a moment despite his aggravation. Andy deposits herself in the last empty chair at Joe’s right and eyes Booker sternly. “And it’s ‘Boss’ to you.”

Booker smirks. “Sorry, Boss.”

In lieu of responding, Andy takes an enormous bite of her sandwich and then leans across the table to pop open Quynh’s can of soda for her, which gets her an, “Aww, babe,” in reply. Then, still chewing, she looks between Joe and Booker blandly. “What are we talking about?”

“Joe hit on a priest.”

Quynh nearly spits out her coke. “ _What_?”

“For fuck’s sake,” Joe snaps, stabbing aggressively at his salad with a plastic fork. “He’s an Episcopal priest. It’s fine. They’re… allowed.” He sighs and composes himself. “So, about Friday’s deadline, I think we should –”

“Hold up,” Quynh interrupts. “You can’t just leave it at that.”

“How do you hit on a priest?” Andy asks, looking at Joe strangely.

Joe glares wordlessly Booker, who holds his hands up innocently before gabbing like the traitor he is, “So Joe had this weird, silent flirtatious thing with a guy at that hipster coffee place a few minutes away, over on Fairfax –”

“Ooh, I like that place,” Quynh interrupts.

“That’s because you’re a coffee snob, hon.”

Booker, cruel but brave man that he is, gives both women a _look_ before continuing, “Anyway, Joe finally put the moves on him, without knowing the dude’s a priest.”

“No!” Quynh cries, as Andy snorts.

“Booker,” Joe starts angrily, “I swear to –”

“Wait! It gets better. So the priest gave him his number, right? And Joe called a few minutes ago and somehow got the priest to agree to _go out_ with him!”

Just the memory of his phone call with Nicky takes Joe out of the present for a moment. Not accounting for Booker eventually barging in, unannounced and uninvited, Joe had called Nicky from the safety of his office, door firmly closed so no one would see him pacing as he mentally prepared himself to make the call. Nicky had answered on the third ring — not that Joe was counting — and his simple, “Hello?” sounded so sweet that it took him repeating it before Joe could get his voice to work.

A little embarrassing, sure, but Joe made out like it was a connection issue and soldiered on. But Nicky didn’t sound suspicious or like he was playing cool or hard to get. Instead, his voice sounded incredibly warm and sincere. “I’m so glad you called,” he had said, and the memory of it makes Joe’s stomach flutter.

He’s brought back to the ugly present as Quynh swats at his bicep. “Joe! Don’t tempt the poor man to break his vows!”

“Yeah, Joe,” Andy says, smirking at him like Joe only exists for her amusement.

Joe hates them. “I’m going to explain this _once_.” He pauses before pointing at Booker angrily with his fork. “And to _you_ , one more time!”

Booker chuckles behind one hand.

“He’s an _Episcopal_ priest.” How did Nicky put it? “They affirm and bless same-sex relationships and marriages. They aren’t required to be celibate. And before anyone asks, this particular one _isn’t_.”

“Is he even gay?” Booker asks, and Joe gapes at him.

“He agreed to go out with me so I fucking think so, Booker. _Jesus_ _Christ_.”

“Ah, yes, and how does _He_ feel about this?” Andy asks, and it takes Joe a second to get the joke.

“You’re all assholes,” he gripes down at his salad as the three of them burst out laughing and Booker high-fives Andy. He seriously hates them. They haven’t known each other long enough to be giving him shit like this. It’s only been three months since Joe started this job at LACMA, and this level of mockery requires two years of friendship, _minimum_. It’s also highly unprofessional, if you ask Joe. Andy is the fucking director of the museum! And as for Quynh –

“Better not take the Lord’s name in vain anymore, Joe.”

“You don’t even go here!” Joe exclaims, and ignores the resulting “Hey!” from both women. “Don’t you have summer courses to teach or something? Advisees to… advise?”

Quynh shrugs. “Not on Mondays.”

“Besides, we’re talking about you, Joe,” Andy says pointedly.

“It’s cooler out today, isn’t it?” Joe tries desperately. “Feels pretty nice. I heard this weekend is supposed to be –”

“Stop trying to change the subject,” Quynh says.

With a scowl, Joe spears a slice of grilled chicken with a cherry tomato and bites into it viciously.

“Wait, aren’t you Muslim?”

Swallowing, Joe looks up at Booker in disbelief. “I don’t keep a prayer rug in my office for nothing, Book.”

“Yeah, well, does he know that?”

“Does he –“ Joe takes a breath, and then promptly explodes. “ _Of course he knows that_!” Some guests sitting a few tables over look his way, but Joe ignores them in his fury. “You think I wouldn’t tell him?”

“And he’s okay with that?”

The resulting look on Joe’s face finally puts the fear of God in Booker, and he holds up his hands seriously this time. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that! I’m just saying, you guys haven’t always gotten along, you know, historically –”

“Understatement,” Andy hums under her breath.

“Sebastien, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut the fuck up,” Joe snaps.

Surprisingly, Booker shuts up, if for a moment.

“What’s the name of his church?” Quynh asks, pulling out her phone.

Joe side-eyes her. “I don’t think I’m going to tell you.” The _last_ thing he needs is these motherfuckers knowing who Nicky is and where to find him, not when this burgeoning thing between him and Joe is so new, so precious. One meeting with these three boneheads would probably send Nicky running for the hills.

“Wait, is it St. Luke’s?” Booker asks, and Quynh immediately starts typing as Joe drops his fork in surprise.

“How the hell did you know that?”

Booker shrugs. “My friend Nile goes there. I’m pretty sure it’s in that neighborhood.”

Oh yeah, _fuck_. Joe told him where the coffee shop was.

“Across the street, isn’t it?” Any asks.

_Maybe I’m the bonehead_ , Joe thinks in despair.

Quynh suddenly lets out a little squeal. “Oh my _God_!” She then gives Joe a shark-like grin that is, frankly, rather terrifying. “Father _Nicolo di Genova,_ huh?”

“Not so loud,” Joe hisses, this time unable to ignore the looks they're receiving.

“Joe, he’s _gorgeous_!”

“Yeah, no shit,” he mutters, rolling his eyes again.

Andy wordlessly holds out her hand and crooks her fingers until Quynh passes the phone over, and then she and Booker look between the phone screen and Joe with raised eyebrows.

In response, Joe makes a show of looking up defiantly at the umbrella overhead. He’s starting to wish Allah _would_ strike him down.

He knows exactly what photo they’re looking at, only because Joe himself spent hours on the website and social media for St. Luke’s Episcopal Church as soon as he got home from the coffee shop on Saturday. He was too nervous to click on any videos or past livestreams, not sure he’s ready to see Nicky preside over Mass or anything just yet when Joe’s still wrapping his mind around the idea of dating a priest and most of his thoughts concerning Nicky are decidedly _un_ godly, but the photos — well, he enjoyed the photos.

The first one that comes up of Nicky shows him all decked out in beautiful red and white robes — vestments? Joe has no idea what any of it’s called, but he just started his research on all things Episcopal and Anglicanism and Christianity, really, i.e. _Nicky_ , so cut him some slack — with elaborate gold detailing, reading from Joe assumes is an ornate Bible held by another priest, though she’s dressed a little more plainly than Nicky. They’re flanked by another man and woman wearing black and white robes and holding tall, white candles on golden candlesticks…

…Joe’s really got to learn his terminology. But the point is, Nicky’s eyes look laser-focused, his demeanor serious, palms clasped reverently in front of him. He also has large hands and really long eyelashes and looks prettier than a priest has any right to look, and Joe has no idea how anyone can attend Mass at St. Luke’s without being terribly… distracted.

“Wow,” Andy comments, and she doesn’t sound totally sarcastic. “Looks like a model.”

“Click on ‘Meet the Rector,’” Booker suggests, and Joe slumps in his chair and visibly sulks as the three of them now crowd around the phone, Quynh even jumping out of her seat and rounding the table so she can lean over Andy and see.

That page has Joe’s favorite photo: Nicky, dressed in plain, black robes, standing and facing the camera, lips quirked ever so slightly into what Joe’s come to think of as a _Nicky-smile_ as his deep, mysterious eyes seem to stare into your very soul through the screen.

Joe may or may not have that photo saved to his phone.

“I’m impressed, Joe,” Booker says after a moment, in a tone that Joe decidedly doesn’t like.

He glares at Booker again. “You’re straight, remember?”

“So? I can still recognize a beautiful man when I see one.”

“Congratulations, Joe,” Quynh says with a smirk. “Looks like you’ve landed your very own Hot Priest.”

Joe sighs. He never should’ve discussed _Fleabag_ with Quynh.

* * *

The rest of Joe’s phone call with Nicky had gone something like this:

“Are you free this week?”

“Hmm, why do you ask?”

Joe was pretty sure Nicky was playing at coy again, so he smiled as he replied brazenly, “So I can take you out on a date, of course.”

_And fuck you_ , he mentally added. But, romantically. After the date.

When Nicky took a second too long to respond, Joe nervously followed up with, “Is… that all right?”

“O-of course,” Nicky stuttered. “I mean, yes. I would like that.”

Joe felt all kinds of smug as he leaned back in his desk chair. “So, are you free this week?”

“Well, less than usual, actually,” Nicky answered, sounding apologetic.

“That’s okay, we’ll figure something out,” Joe was quick to reassure. “What’s your schedule like?”

And then Nicky told him. In _detail_.

Tuesday: Morning prayer, afternoon confessional, prayer and Bible study in the evening.

Wednesday: Morning _and_ evening Mass.

Thursday: morning and evening prayer, office hours and lots of meetings in between.

Saturday: confirmation class in the mornings, Latin Mass at 5 PM.

Sunday: 8 AM Low Mass, adult education class, 10:30 AM High Mass.

“And sometimes a Benediction or Evensong on Sunday evenings, usually once a month,” Nicky finished.

“…Wow,” was Joe’s intelligent response. He understood about half of that.

“But my assistant priests handle the morning and evening prayers on Mondays and Fridays, so those are my days off,” Nicky added brightly, and much to Joe’s relief. He had, of course, studied the church calendar on the website over the weekend, and he knew Nicky had a couple assistant priests who must take some of the load off him, but _still_.

Okay, Joe thought, dinner on Friday should work.

“However,” Nicky continued before Joe could speak up, “this Friday night is the quarterly meeting with the LA Interreligious Council… so normally my Friday nights are open, but not this Friday.”

“…Oh.”

“What’s your schedule like?”

“Uh, you know. Monday through Fridays.” It was quiet over the line, and Joe cringed and forced his mouth to work, “Usually 9-5, but sometimes I go in late on Fridays... my boss doesn’t really care as long as the work gets done.”

“Ah,” was Nicky’s only reply. Then, “I’m free tonight?”

Normally Joe would’ve followed that up with a good-natured, “Is that a question?” or something similarly teasing, but he was too busy silently panicking. _Can I do tonight?_ he asked himself. _On such short notice?_ He _wanted_ to see Nicky this soon, of course he did, but he also wanted to have time to prepare, to plan a date worthy of Nicky, and –

“Wanna grab dinner?” Joe asked, and then quietly facepalmed.

But Nicky sounded happy and sweet as he responded in the affirmative, so Joe smiled even as he wanted to bang his head against his desk.

He would need to go home and change first, he had no idea where he would take Nicky, and –

“I know a few good halal places in the area,” Nicky said carefully, “if that’s something you would be interested in.”

Joe’s panicked thoughts immediately quietened, and he shook his head in disbelief, even as he smiled.

“Joe?”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Nicky. Do you have a favorite?”

“Is Indian okay?”

It was at this point that a couple of sharp knocks came to his door, and then Booker stuck his head in the room. “Lunch?” he mouthed at Joe.

“Indian sounds great,” Joe said to Nicky, all the while gesturing at his phone and making a face at Booker that said, _I’m on the phone, get out._ “Maybe around 7?”

“7 works for me. I’ll see if I can get us reservations.”

“Great!”

“Who’s that?” Booker whispered.

“I’m looking forward to seeing you,” Nicky said, and he sounded so cute that Joe quickly swiveled his chair around to face the window behind him, simply so Booker couldn’t see the grin threatening to overtake his face.

“And I can’t wait to see you,” he said in a low tone that he hoped made Nicky blush. “Text me the details?”

“Okay,” Nicky said shyly. “Talk to you soon.”

“Bye, Nicky.”

Joe had to force himself to hang up, but then he just sat there, smiling, until, “I can see you grinning in the reflection of the window, moron.”

* * *

Joe spends the rest of the afternoon on pins and needles, unable to concentrate on his work for more than a few minutes at a time. He’s even distracted during his prayers, which, yes, makes him feel a little guilty, but these are strange and extenuating circumstances and he’s sure Allah understands. At least he tried, okay?

As soon as the clock on his computer screen changes from 4:59 to 5:00 PM, he’s up and racing out the door, hurrying home for a quick shower and change of clothes. He looks great in business casual, but for a first date at an Indian joint in West Hollywood, street casual is probably the more appropriate attire, he decides. So he swaps out the dress shoes and slacks and button-down in exchange for his go-to black boots, a soft gray t-shirt, and his favorite pair of black jeans with the extra zippers on the legs that he _also_ knows look great on him, mostly because his dates always compliment them — and more importantly, Joe in them.

Then he looks around his messy one-bedroom apartment and starts to panic again. What if Nicky comes over tonight? Joe’s not _really_ expecting them to have sex on the first date — it might be too soon for Nicky, and Joe doesn’t want to push it — but what if Nicky wants to come over and make out a little, or something? And so he does a quick surface cleaning just in case, tidying up any obvious clutter, throwing any stray articles of dirty clothes into his hamper, and loading his dishwasher.

Then he has just enough time to check his hair, reapply deodorant, and spritz on a little cologne before heading out the door. It’s still early, but after just a few months in LA, he knows to allot extra time for traffic, finding the place, and parking, if he wants to be on time.

And sure enough, despite the fact that he left his place 15 minutes early, he still parks his car on a quiet side street next to the restaurant right at 7 on the dot. _I’m here,_ Nicky had texted him 5 minutes ago, followed shortly by, _Waiting outside._

_Be there in 5!_ Joe had illegally texted at a red-light on Melrose.

After pulling the key out of the ignition, Joe gives himself about five seconds to just breathe. _Fuck_. He’s never been this nervous before a first date, and that includes his _first_ first date with a boy when he was 16. But this is _Nicky_ — sweet, gorgeous Nicky, who Joe barely knows but is more than a little obsessed with, who he wants to fuck but also hold hands with and _woo_ , for fuck’s sake. Woo!

Nicky, who wanted Joe to hit on him in a crowded coffee shop on a Saturday morning, who was nothing but kind and gracious when Joe made a fool of himself, and who sounded so happy to be going on a date with Joe tonight, as if _he_ was the lucky one.

Nicky, who’s waiting on him _right now._

“Okay, Joe. You can do this.”

He can do this.

He locks up and quickly pays the hour left on the parking meter before it frees up the for the night, and then he all but runs down the sidewalk. And when he gets to the end of the block and turns the corner, there he is.

Nicky.

_Nicky_ , standing casually in front of the restaurant, expression unreadable as he looks down at his phone.

Heart in his throat, Joe stops in his tracks for a moment and simply takes him in. His profile is as stunning as ever, his hair a little more styled than Joe has seen it, and while his navy-blue t-shirt accentuates the broadness of his shoulders, the short sleeves reveal arms as slender and pale as Joe suspected. His dark wash jeans, while not what anyone would describe as ‘tight,’ per se, are definitely more fitting than anything else Joe’s seen him wear; and Joe quickly zeros in on what appear to be pleasantly thick thighs and the obscene curve of his ass from the side.

He doesn’t get a chance to appreciate any further, however, as Nicky looks up and over at him, and Joe’s feet immediately start moving again as if they never stopped.

“Nicky, hi!” Joe calls out to him.

Nicky’s eyes light up, but he waits until Joe’s right in front of him before he responds with another gentle, “Hello.”

“Hi,” Joe says again, dumbly. “Sorry I’m late, I… traffic…”

Nicky waves a dismissive hand. “Please. I’m an Italian living in LA. We’re both early.”

“Ha!” Joe lets out.

They smile at each other, and then Nicky leans in to give Joe one of those very platonic, one-armed hugs that require as little touching as possible. Joe would be worried, but the “It’s good to see you,” that’s said near his ear is both extremely pleasant as a sensation and sounds as genuine as Nicky did over the phone; so Joe enjoys his warmth while he can, breathing in the subtle notes of Nicky’s cologne — lighter than Joe’s, masculine but sweet — and then forcing himself to drop his hand from Nicky’s shoulder-blade as he pulls away.

“You look great,” Joe tells him earnestly, giving him a quick but obvious once-over, from his unbelievable eyes down to his black boots that are similar to Joe’s and back up again. His smile widens as Nicky bites his lip and looks down and away.

“Thank you. So do you.”

God, he’s cute.

“Shall we?” Joe prompts, nodding towards the restaurant.

Nicky’s eyes widen a little, as if he forgot. “Ah! Yes,” he says with a nod.

_So_ cute _._

“After you,” Joe says, and gestures for Nicky to go first like a gentleman.

The second Nicky turns around, Joe’s gaze immediately drops to his ass in a very _un_ -gentlemanly manner, and as they walk up the short set of steps into the restaurant Joe has to take a moment and look up at the sky in gratitude.

_Alhamdulillah_ _,_ his _ass._

By the time Nicky gives his name to the host and turns back around, Joe’s eyes are up where they’re supposed to be. He smiles at Nicky innocently, and then the host leads them to a tiny table for two in one corner of the outdoor dining patio, with a little un-lit candle in the center for when the sun finishes setting. It’s private compared to the other tables, quieter and more intimate, which pleases Joe.

And he’s never been one for unnecessary chivalry, or whatever the gay male equivalent is, but he finds himself stepping forward and pulling Nicky’s chair out for him without a word. Thankfully, Nicky is receptive.

“Thank you, Joe,” he says with a surprised laugh as he sits down. Joe happily sits across from him, and just as he hoped, their knees are forced to brush up against each other under the table.

“Your server will be with you shortly,” the host says, reminding Joe of his presence. He looks between them with a smile and then at Joe with a wink that says, _Nice job, man_ , before sauntering off and leaving Joe and Nicky to each other.

They’re quiet for a moment, and it takes Joe a few seconds to realize that Nicky’s not just looking at him — no, he’s _studying_ him, just like he did when they first locked eyes in the coffee shop.

And so Joe openly does the same, taking his fill of Nicky’s face. If the mysterious Nicky from the coffee shop had seemed so perfect that the ridiculous question of _Was it something in the coffee?_ crossed Joe’s mind once or twice, well, this destroys that theory. Nicky is just as beautiful sitting at an Indian restaurant in WeHo as he is at a hipster coffee shop. Even more so, perhaps, with the orange and pink hues of the burgeoning sunset behind him, softening a face that Michelangelo himself would have liked to carve from marble — would’ve tried to carve, and come up short – had he been blessed enough to lay eyes upon one such as Nicky.

The proud nose, the distinctive beauty mark, his sensual lips, his eyes... _God, his_ _eyes_ , Joe thinks helplessly as they make eye contact.

“You’re a gentleman,” Nicky suddenly proclaims, leaning back in his chair.

_Huh_. Joe isn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that.

Nicky doesn’t say anything else, and Joe narrows his eyes at him in contemplation. “Does that bother you?”

Nicky continues to stare into his eyes, his expression inscrutable. A lesser man would be… unnerved, to say the least.

Joe, however, is man enough to be intrigued, to challenge Nicky head-on with the intent of _winning_ , and so just like last time, he refuses to be the one who looks away first.

“No,” Nicky eventually says, and lowers his gaze for a moment before looking back up at Joe with a sweet, shy smile. “I like it.”

_Fuck_ , if Joe isn’t turned on…

“Good,” he replies firmly, as if Nicky had no choice in the matter. He softens it with a smirk, though, and is supremely satisfied when Nicky blushes faintly.

Of course, with most of Joe’s thoughts still centered around Nicky’s ass and Nicky’s legs brushing against his own and Nicky’s sexy, demure little looks and how that translates in the bedroom – and God, Joe hopes he’s exactly like this in the bedroom, intense and coy and sweet and ultimately ceding control to Joe – Joe’s really not much of a gentleman at all.

But if Nicky wants a gentleman, then that’s what Joe will be.

At least, he’ll act like one.

Their server chooses that moment to make her appearance with iced waters and a couple menus, and after they both pass on ordering any additional drinks they’re left alone to study the menu, which they do with the occasional comment to each other about this dish or that one. Five minutes later, they’ve each ordered an entrée and extra garlic naan to share, and Joe is finally able to focus all of his attention on Nicky again.

“You really do look great,” he says, and delights in the pleased quirk of Nicky’s lips. “Your shirt brings out your eyes.”

“That’s what Ni-” Nicky cuts himself off suddenly, “um, thank you.” He then looks away from Joe and takes a large sip of his water.

Joe squints at him. “What?”

“Hmm?”

“Come on,” Joe prompts with a sly smile. “What were you about to say?”

Nicky looks panicked for a moment, then shy and a little embarrassed. “That’s what my friend Nile said.” His cheeks start to pinken again. “She helped me put this” — he awkwardly waves a hand at his chest — “together.”

This, being a simple t-shirt and jeans. He’s so fucking cute that Joe can’t help but tease him about at least _one_ part of that little confession. “Nicky, were you nervous about our date?”

As if Joe wasn’t. _Isn’t_.

“No!” Nicky protests, though he’s smiling wider than usual.

“Come now, there’s no need to lie to me –”

“Priests never lie,” Nicky jokes, and Joe doesn’t quite manage to hide his tiny jolt of surprise.

As stupid as it sounds, sitting across from Nicky like this, with Nicky looking like that, looking at _Joe_ like that, well.

For a moment, Joe had forgotten _._

And he may hardly know anything about Nicky, but he can spot the moment Nicky begins to close himself off from whatever he thinks he sees in Joe’s expression, from the worry in his eyes to the way he carefully crosses his arms over his middle — not angrily, but nervously, a little protectively.

And Joe’s over the whole priest thing. He _is_. As much as one can be, anyway. It’s still entirely new territory for Joe, and his co-workers are _assholes_ , and his parents will be very confused when he tells them, but.

It’s Nicky.

Kind, beautiful Nicky, who looks like he’s bracing for judgment, maybe even rejection, and Joe can’t have that.

“It’s all right, you can confess to me,” Joe quips, grinning, even though he knows it’s not particularly funny.

But it works.

“Will you absolve me of my sins?” Nicky quips back at him with one of his trademark _Nicky-smiles_ as he uncrosses his arms, and Joe’s thoughts turn in that _other_ direction again.

_I can think of a few things you can do as penance._

Joe clears his throat but continues to smile at Nicky, trying to put him at ease. Then something Nicky said clicks. “You said Nile, right? I think we have a friend in common.” Joe frowns and tilts his head up as he thinks. “Well… your friend knows my friend.”

Though ‘friend’ might be pushing it after today…

“Oh, that’s right! She said she knows someone who works at LACMA.” Nicky’s brows furrow. “Book…?”

“Booker,” Joe corrects. “Well, Sebastian, but his last name’s le Livre, so. The joke writes itself.”

“Ah. Do you work closely together?”

“Yeah,” Joe says, not bothering to hide his current displeasure.

“And you’re sure he’s a friend?” Nicky teases.

“He’s a fucking asshole, is what he is.”

_Shit_ , should he say that in front of a priest? _Again_ , it’s Nicky, but –

“Well, he’s French, no?” Nicky asks pointedly with a little smirk, and Joe blinks in surprise before laughing.

“Obnoxiously French.”

“Though I shouldn’t judge. I’ve been told I’m obnoxiously Italian,” Nicky says, with hand gestures to prove his point.

“Do you cook?” Joe asks.

He was joking, but Nicky actually sits up straighter and beams at him. “Yes, actually. For fun, but I’ve been told I’m quite good.”

Joe grins. “I’m sure. Will you cook for me sometime?”

This time he was half-joking, but Nicky smiles down at the table and softly responds with, “I would love to.”

Joe thinks he must have visible cartoon heart-eyes, the way he’s looking at Nicky now: soft and in awe and in so, so deep.

“So,” Nicky says after a moment, looking back up at Joe. “Tell me more about your work?”

And so Joe does, starting with what he does as a curator and what it’s like to work at LACMA, the exhibits he’s working on, about Booker and Andy and Quynh. Nicky is an avid listener, watching Joe with big, fascinated eyes and asking smart questions at all the right moments.

It’s very flattering, holding the rapt attention of someone as incredible as Nicky. Joe can also tell, based on Nicky’s little looks and sweet blushes to the way he bites his bottom lip when Joe takes a moment to stretch his arms up and behind his head, that Nicky is _into_ him; and look, Joe’s well-aware that he’s a handsome guy, okay, no false modesty here, but he’s never felt so handsome as he does now, with Nicky looking at him like that.

He feels like he’s on top of the world.

Their food comes eventually, and they pause to dig in, Nicky praising his palak paneer with gusto as Joe relishes his lamb biryani and happily watches him.

A few minutes later as they begin to slow down between bites, Nicky asks, “Did you always know this is what you wanted to do?”

_Have dinner with the most beautiful man in the world?_

“Curating, that is,” Nicky clarifies, oblivious to Joe’s train of thought. “Art.”

Joe wipes at his mouth with his napkin. “Not at all. First two years of uni, I studied business, if you can believe it.”

“Really? What made you change?”

“I’m bad at numbers,” Joe says simply, and waits for Nicky’s huff of polite amusement before opening up, “I always loved art as a kid, but I had been told my entire life that I was to become a doctor, lawyer, or a businessman like my father.” He pauses, takes another bite and swallows. “My parents moved to the Netherlands from Tunisia shortly before I was born. My father wanted to provide my mother and I with the best life he could, so when he got the opportunity to move, he couldn’t pass it up. But I was expected to follow in his footsteps: university, career, start a family.”

Nicky doesn’t say anything, but he gives Joe one of his little smiles, an encouragement to keep going. Joe takes a drink of his water and continues, “I was always drawing as a kid, though; objects, first, then landscapes, people…”

“Did your father mind?” Nicky asks.

“Well, he –” Joe cuts himself off when he realizes what Nicky is delicately trying to ask. He holds back a smile. “He wasn’t against it for, like, religious reasons or anything. My father's not even religious." He waits to see if Nicky is surprised at this, but he just blinks at Joe and waits for him to continue. "He just… didn’t want me to waste my time, you know?”

Truthfully, though Joe and his father have had their _issues_ , he always feels the need to defend his father to others, so used to the stereotypes that follow Muslim families in the West; used to people assuming his father is a tyrant, his mother a victim, Joe either or both. Nicky has done nothing to make Joe suspect he thinks this way — quite the opposite, in fact — but Joe can feel his shoulders tense out of habit. “He didn’t mean anything by it.”

“He just wanted what’s best for you,” Nicky infers gently, with no judgment in his eyes.

Joe relaxes and lets himself smile. “Exactly. He put so much pressure on me to study hard and get good grades — on my little sisters, too, but especially me — though looking back, I’m grateful for it.” He clears his throat. “Anyway, during my second year I took an art history course, just for fun, and…” Joe shrugs. “That was it. I was hooked. So I switched to art history and never looked back.”

Nicky smiles back at him and waits until Joe’s taken another bite and swallowed before he asks, “May I ask how your parents took the news?”

Joe laughs. “Oh, they hated it. I mean, they didn’t understand it at first. But they slowly came around.”

Joe could go on about his relationship with his parents, could talk about his father’s confusion when he came out, his mother’s initial tears; how his father put up with his mother taking Joe to mosque semi-regularly when he was a kid, but couldn’t fathom why Joe would want to go himself as a young adult. The _debates_ he and his father had… still have, at times, despite how much they love each other.

“They must be very proud,” Nicky says, looking at Joe like _he’s_ proud of him, and Joe just…

Wants to kiss him.

Instead, he asks, “What about you? Did you always want to be a priest?”

“No,” Nicky deadpans, and then he _snorts_ and bursts into laughter.

Shocked, Joe grins open-mouthed at Nicky. “Tell me the truth!” he demands, before joining Nicky in his infectious laughter.

“I am!” Nicky insists.

Joe points an accusatory finger at him. “You wanted to be Father Nicolo di Genova ever since you were a kid. Admit it.”

This sets off another round of giggles. “Not at all.”

Joe is… Joe is fucking _charmed_. And he’s pretty sure the heart eyes are back.

Nicky’s amusement settles just as their server comes to check on them again and re-fill their waters, and Joe is just realizing how dark it’s gotten out when she pulls out a lighter and lights the candle between them.

The second he gets a look at Nicky’s glowing face by candlelight, well. He decides to add a little extra to her tip, just for that.

“So, when did you discover you liked other boys?”

“No!” Joe exclaims, pointing another finger and laughing. “Stop. It’s your turn!”

Nicky grins. “But I want to know!”

Joe falters for a moment, just utterly awe-struck by Nicky’s beauty. It also doesn't help that his accent gets even thicker the more excited or playful he gets, and Joe finds it intoxicating. He wonders what it sounds like during sex, after an orgasm or two. “I…” He recovers, insists again, “Stop it. You know way more about me than I know about you. It’s not fair!”

Nicky pretends like he’s thinking hard as he starts counting with his fingers. “Let’s see: you know I’m gay, I’m Italian, I’m an Episcopal priest, I’ve lived here for three years. What more would you want to know?”

“What more?!” Joe can’t _believe_ this man.

“Besides, shouldn’t we save something for the second date? What will we have to talk about?”

Joe barks out laughter, even as butterflies fill his stomach.

Second date, second date, _second date._

“We can exchange coming out stories then,” Joe says, but then raises his eyebrows. “Although, I’ve never been on a _first_ date where me and the other guy didn’t exchange coming out stories…”

“See?”

Joe’s speechless. He’s not sure if Nicky is really this much of a little shit or if he could see where Joe’s thoughts were turning and decided to lighten the mood, but either way, Joe really, _really_ wants to lean over the table, tilt Nicky's chin up, and kiss him.

And then take Nicky home and bend him over Joe's kitchen table, and... _no, n_ _ot now, Joe._

“No. You’re going to tell me about you now,” Joe orders, though he’s smiling.

“All right, all right.” Nicky ducks his head with a little smile and finally acquiesces, “Joking aside, I’m telling the truth when I say I didn’t always know I wanted to be a priest. I had no idea what I wanted to be, really. I was… shall we say, rebellious?”

“You,” Joe says flatly, unbelieving. “Rebellious.”

Nicky nods slowly. “I was a very angry teenager.”

Joe’s eyes widen. “ _You_? Angry? But you’re…”

“I’m what?” Nicky asks innocently, and he’s just that: _innocent_.

“But you’re so _nice_!” Joe shakes his head. “I can’t imagine you acting out as a teenager.”

“I didn’t act out,” Nicky says. When Joe squints at him in confusion, he smiles. “I wasn’t off doing drugs and – and having sex, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Just when Joe had _stopped_ thinking about Nicky and sex...

“But I was angry at God,” Nicky explains, and Joe’s attention returns in full focus to the conversation at hand, “and I hated the Church. My family is Roman Catholic, and very traditional, and… I resented my family for it. I was depressed and very difficult to be around.”

Nicky says it so matter-of-factly, but Joe still finds it hard to imagine the sweet, gentle man in front of him being anything but.

“I know it’s hard to imagine,” Nicky says, like a mind-reader, “I seem so different now. But I worked to become like this. I’m _still_ working on it.”

He shrugs and pops a torn-off piece of naan into his mouth, chewing like he didn’t just say something completely mind-blowing to Joe. “I did a couple years of general studies at university, but I knew I had to escape.”

“Escape what?” Joe asks carefully.

“My family, the Church, Italy…" Nicky trails off for a moment, eyes a little glazed over like he's somewhere else, but then he snaps back out of it. "So, I worked part-time jobs to save up enough money for a plane ticket, and I applied and somehow got into university in England. My family was not happy, but I left anyway” — Joe keeps his expression neutral, but inside he’s reeling — “and it was the best thing I could’ve done.”

“…And the priesthood?” Joe prompts, hoping he’s not overstepping. He wants to ask about Nicky’s family, too, but this seems... safer, for now.

“Well, I still believed in God, though it was practically against my will at that point. I mean, I loved God; I couldn't stop loving Him. And I believed — well, _hoped_ , at the time — that He still loved me, even though I didn’t have the theological knowledge and training to make sense of it all yet.” Nicky frowns a little. “I’m not sure if that makes any sense –”

“No, no. That makes perfect sense,” Joe says, a little breathlessly. He knows exactly what Nicky means: the confusion, the trauma, the _identity-crisis_ of growing up queer and religious, of attempting to reconcile sexuality and faith as two important, unopposed facets of yourself instead of waging a pointless war within, of giving up one for the other. _Refusing_ to give up one for the other.

The two of them share a smile in understanding.

“So, I began praying a lot, asking God to just show me what it was I was supposed to do. I didn’t want to waste any more time and be miserable for the rest of my life, you know? I wanted a _purpose,_ to do God's Will. And then He led me inside an Anglican church one day, and it just… felt right. Now, the Church of England isn’t as evolved as the U.S. Episcopal Church when it comes to social issues, but for the first time, I didn’t feel like I was expected to change or suppress my true self, not like I did before. So over the years I got more involved, felt called to study theology and got my Master of Divinity, and…” Nicky shrugs again. “I became a priest.”

“How did you end up in LA?” Joe asks.

“Well, I started as an assistant priest at a parish in London, but my dream was to move to America and get a job at an Episcopal parish. I wanted…” he trails off, looks away as if a little embarrassed.

“Wanted what?”

“Well, I want to get married someday,” Nicky says shyly, still not looking at Joe. “And I can do that as a priest, here.”

Nicky isn’t the first man to say something like this to Joe – about the desire to get married, that is. A couple times, it was someone new and still in Joe’s ‘maybe, maybe this could be the one’ category, and so Joe’s romantic side would entertain the thought, however briefly; but usually it would be someone Joe wasn’t serious about, would make Joe think, _Oh, shit_ , and gently end things not long after, for their sake.

Now, it just makes Joe feel warm all over. “Me too,” he says before he can stop himself.

Nicky looks at him in surprise, and Joe has only a moment to wonder why that is — Does Joe not seem like the type? Is Nicky not used to guys expressing the same desire back at him? — until Nicky, eyes shining, gives him a slow, beautiful smile that robs Joe of any intelligent thought.

“Anyway, God eventually blessed me with the opportunity to serve at St. Luke’s, so. Here I am,” Nicky finishes.

“Here you are,” Joe murmurs, and he knows his own eyes are sparkling back at Nicky. Then, “You know, you’re the first date I’ve ever had that thought to ask if I keep halal.”

He doesn’t know why he chose this exact moment to tell Nicky that, but it just… feels right, after everything Nicky told him.

Though he didn’t expect or intend for Nicky’s smile to drop sharply in response. Joe is about to ask what’s wrong when Nicky says, “Oh, Joe. I’m so sorry. Many people are ignorant. I try not to be, but I hope you’ll feel free to let me know if I –”

“That’s not what I meant,” Joe tells him firmly, with a smile. “I didn’t mean to imply... Just, I know you said you’re working at it, but I want you to know… you’re so _kind_. You may be the kindest person I’ve ever met.”

“I hope that’s not true,” Nicky demurs, eyes downcast and cheeks pink. “You’ve only just met me.”

_Damn_ , when it's put into words like that, it makes Joe feel crazy. He's never fallen so fast for someone — didn't even know it was possible.

“The kindest _and_ the most humble,” he teases, deciding to dwell on his feelings later, and draws another cute little laugh from Nicky as hoped.

They’re quieter as they finish up dinner, exchanging lighter commentary about the restaurant, the food, the people around them in between bites. Joe desperately wants Nicky to place a hand on the table so Joe can cover it with his own, but frustratingly, he never does. Then Joe decides to playfully brush his foot against one of Nicky’s, just to flirt, but Nicky pulls away immediately.

Joe inwardly winces, and he’s about to apologize when Nicky starts casually talking about how full he is, as if he didn’t even feel it. Maybe he thought it was an accident?

Joe tries again a few minutes later, as they’re waiting for their server to bring the check. He moves his leg further into Nicky’s space, rubs the side of his calf against Nicky’s. This time Nicky pulls back with a bashful smile like it was _him,_ and then he actually _apologizes_.

Joe blinks. Does he really not…?

“I’m going to find the restroom,” Nicky says as he stands up. He waits until Joe smiles at him before walking off, and then Joe looks down at the table, blinking a few more times.

What just happened? Did Joe do something wrong? Say something offensive? Fuck, Nicky’s coming _back_ , isn’t he?!

The check arrives not long after, a welcome distraction from Joe’s increasingly anxious thoughts, and Nicky indeed comes back right as the server is walking away with Joe’s debit card.

“Joe, I was going to pay,” Nicky complains, but his sweet smile ruins it.

Joe scoffs at him, but is secretly relieved. Nicky’s _shy_ , he knows that, and seemingly not as experienced as Joe is. He’s clearly still into Joe. It’s _fine_. He must have misunderstood, that's all.

“I asked you, I’m paying,” Joe says sternly, but with a wink.

He could _swear_ Nicky flutters his eyelashes at him in response, and _oh_ , okay. Nicky’s kind of a tease, isn’t he? Is that what this is?

Joe smirks. Maybe he didn’t clean his apartment in vain, after all. _Inshallah._

Once Joe gets his card back and leaves a generous tip — “Isn’t tipping in America strange?” Nicky asked knowingly, and Joe laughed and replied with, “God, yes. 20% minimum? I’m still getting used to it” — they stand from the table and head outside, Joe letting Nicky go a little ahead of him in hopes of placing a hand on the small of his back to guide him.

But Nicky walks too fast, and so Joe frowns but follows him without contact outside the restaurant. He has that sinking feeling again that Nicky is _not_ coming back to his apartment tonight, but he always knew that was merely a possibility — maybe even a long-shot — so he won’t allow himself to feel too disappointed. Maybe on the second date?

“Where did you park?” Joe asks once they’re outside again.

“Over there,” Nicky says, and points in the opposite direction of where Joe’s car is.

“Can I walk you to your car?”

“Gentleman,” Nicky says, eyes twinkling, and Joe grins at him. “Of course.”

As they walk, Joe makes up his mind. When they get to Nicky’s car, Joe is going to lean in slow, maybe with a hand on Nicky’s waist, and kiss him. It’ll be chaste, just a brush of the lips, but enough to leave a lingering promise of something more to come in the future – be that tonight or a few dates from now, whenever Nicky’s ready.

The butterflies in Joe’s stomach are going crazy at the thought of it.

When they get to Nicky’s nice but modest black car, Nicky turns to Joe and smiles. “I had a really nice time tonight. Thank you for inviting me.”

Joe takes a step closer and smiles down at him. “So did I. Thank you for coming.”

Nicky looks down at their feet. “Do you… do you maybe want to do something on Saturday?” He speaks a little fast, “We’re not having confirmation class this week, so I’ll be free until Mass.”

Joe wants to _scream_ , he’s so cute. He also wants to crowd Nicky against his car and kiss him until he’s pliant and breathless and begging Joe for more.

“I would love to,” Joe says instead, and Nicky looks back up at him happily.

“Okay. So, I’ll call you, and we can discuss what we want to do.”

“Okay,” Joe says, currently unable to think of anything other than the fact that he’s about to kiss this man.

“Okay,” Nicky says with a little laugh. “So. Goodnight, Joe.”

_This is it_. Joe leans in even closer, gaze focused on Nicky’s mouth.

But then — and Joe will replay this scene over and over again for the rest of the week, agonizing over every little detail that led up to this point — Nicky turns around before Joe can grab his hand or his waist, before Joe can _kiss him_.

And he _gets in his car._

“Goodnight,” Joe is pretty sure he says, though he also thinks he might be having an out-of-body experience. He just stands there, slack jawed and head empty as Nicky gives a little wave from inside his car, only seen thanks to the streetlight he’s parked next to, before _driving away_.

Just like that! No kiss, no waist grab or hand holding… not even a sensual touch to his wrist like outside the coffee shop, or — or another platonic hug!

Joe stands frozen for another minute, maybe two, unaware of the man and woman who pass him warily at one point; and then he clutches at his skull with both hands, fingers buried in his hair as he looks up at the sky, then back in the direction that Nicky, now long-gone, had drove off in.

“What just _happened_?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Press F to pay respects.
> 
>   
> And thanks to everyone who commented on the first fic and asked for a sequel! I'm thinking this will have 4 more chapters, as these two still have a lot more to learn about each other. I hope you enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I’m so sorry, but… I have to be honest with you.”_
> 
> _Oh no. That’s never good._

“Joe?”

Mid-drink, Joe looks up at the familiar voice and about chokes on his cold brew. “Booker! What are you doing here?”

Booker stands next to his table and looks down at him in amusement. “Good morning to you, too. You drink coffee with a straw?”

“It’s a cold brew,” Joe defends. Then, voice harder, he repeats, “What are you doing here?”

“Meeting my friend Nile. We texted the other day about you and your new boyfriend –”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Joe mutters.

“– since you refused to tell me about your date and instead acted like a spaced-out weirdo at work all week –”

“What, so you could gab about it to everyone else we work with?”

“– _so_ we decided to hang out and make fun of you two in person.” Booker gestures around the coffee shop in an exaggerated manner. “And what better place than where it all started, right?”

“Make fun…?” Dread settles in Joe’s gut. He didn’t tell a soul about Nicky shooting him down — on accident? On purpose? Who knows. Joe’s been torturing himself with the possibilities ever since Monday night, when Nicky _literally_ turned his back as Joe went in for the kiss.

He didn’t even give Joe a chance to hold his hand, or let their legs tangle under the table. For fucks sake, he never complimented Joe’s jeans, and Joe always gets compliments in those!

And look, it’s not that Joe’s _never_ been shot down. When you play the game as much as Joe has, you’re bound to strike out every now and then. Once in a blue moon. But Nicky’s mixed signals are the most confusing thing Joe’s ever come across in his whole… what, 17 years of dating? Sure, he’s seen the occasional bratty, stuck-up twink, the types that pretend at being cold and hard to get just for attention, but most guys are pretty damn obvious with their intentions: they’re either down to fuck, or they’re not. Men are simple creatures, what can Joe say.

 _Nicky_ , on the other hand, is something entirely different, alternating between sweet, shy, innocent Nicky one minute and his eyelash batting, lip licking, sexy alter-ego the next, and with no discernible pattern that Joe can detect. _Is_ he playing hard to get?

And oh God, what if Nicky _did_ know that Joe tried to kiss him, and he told Nile, and she told _Booker_?

“Well, make fun of you, mostly,” Booker clarifies. “Because you’re a ridiculous person. Nicky sounds cute, though.”

Joe narrows his eyes. “He is, but you don’t get a say in that.”

“Nile says he’s crazy about you.”

Mouth open and ready to insult Booker, Joe registers what he just said and pauses. “Oh yeah?” That sounds promising. Smiling a little, Joe sits up straighter in his chair. “What all did, uh, Nile have to say, exactly?”

“Well, she –”

Booker’s eyes suddenly widen as he seems to fully take in Joe’s appearance for the first time that morning. “Joe, what the hell are you wearing?”

Joe’s face falls. “What do you mean?”

Booker looks him over as best he can while Joe stays seated, his face now torn between amusement and horror. “Backwards baseball cap? _Cargo_ shorts? And… are those hiking boots? Are you going hiking?”

 _Unfortunately_ , Joe thinks sourly. When Nicky texted him a couple days ago to make plans, Joe was ecstatic. Relieved. Maybe he hadn’t been friendzoned after all. Then Nicky texted, _What about hiking?_ and Joe groaned as he forced himself to type, _Sounds great! :)_

Because look, nature is beautiful. Joe likes spending time in nature. But he likes _strolls_ , nice walking paths with no steep inclines, no rocks to trip over, no cliffs to fall off. If he’s going to sweat, he prefers going for a neighborhood run, a nice game of football in the park with the guys, the gym. And sex, of course — can’t forget sex. Not mile-long hikes where running out of water or getting lost or being attacked by wild animals or people, even, are real, serious possibilities.

Joe would much rather visit the Observatory than go hiking at Griffith Park. In fact, he’s been meaning to go ever since he moved to LA. Not only is it a landmark of Hollywood cinema — yes, Joe’s seen _Rebel Without a Cause_ , and he very secretly enjoys _La La Land_ — but he’s also loved space since he was a kid. Though merely a casual reader and documentary viewer, Joe considers himself quite knowledgeable on the subject, and it would be a great way to impress Nicky.

But if Nicky wants to hike… _ugh_. Then they’ll hike, and Joe will smile and keep his complaints to himself. A sweaty, flushed, panting Nicky _does_ sound rather appealing, but there’s much better activities they could be doing to up their heart rate at Joe’s apartment…

“Earth to Joe,” Booker calls, and has the nerve to wave his fucking hand in front of Joe’s face. Joe slaps it away with a scowl.

“First of all, the backwards cap looks great on me,” he argues, and is kind enough to ignore Booker’s condescending eyebrow raise. “Secondly, weren’t you meeting someone? Where the hell is Nile?”

Booker shrugs. “I’m early. Where’s Nicky?” He tilts his head towards the steaming, to-go cup of coffee placed next to Joe’s drink _._

“He’s –” A flash of movement out the window catches Joe’s attention, and like an angel appearing out of nowhere, here comes the man in question, nearing the door to the shop. Once he registers the implications of this — Nicky, Booker, _in the same place_ — Joe all but jumps out of his chair. “Here, gotta go.”

“I want to meet him!” Booker protests as Joe shoves past him with a cup in each hand.

“Another time,” Joe says without looking back. “Say hi to Nile for me, asshole. I want to know everything she says later.”

“Only if you tell me what happened Monday night!” Booker calls after him.

Joe quickly intercepts Nicky as he’s opening the door. “Joe!” Nicky exclaims, a surprised grin on his face that doesn’t falter as Joe uses his body to gently steer Nicky back the way he came.

“I got your drink!” Joe announces, and waits until Nicky is a good five feet away from the door before he stops ushering him away and holds out Nicky’s cup.

Nicky carefully takes it, looking up at Joe with wide eyes. “Thank you, but what’s the hurry? I thought we were going to sit for a few minutes –”

“I’m just excited to start hiking!” Joe looks over his shoulder and sees Booker now sitting where Joe was, watching them with one elbow propped on the table, chin in hand. When he makes eye contact with Joe, he smirks and waves. Joe glowers back at him and then quickly turns to Nicky. “Come on, let’s get away from the window,” he says and, without thinking, grabs Nicky’s free wrist and pulls him along.

To his credit, Nicky allows himself to be all but dragged away without so much as a fuss, though he does look at Joe with a little concern. “Joe, is something wrong?”

“No, no,” Joe assures as soon as they’re well past the coffee shop and further down the block. He lets them come to a stop and then gently lets go of Nicky. “Sorry, my friend was in there.”

Nicky’s face does something strange, here, going from surprised to… cold. Shut off. He takes a step back from Joe, and with a start, Joe suddenly realizes how that sounded.

“No, wait! That came out wrong, I would never…” He winces. “Booker was in there being obnoxious and French, and I was trying to spare you.”

Nicky inspects him for a moment with those piercing eyes, but his face quickly softens, and he huffs out a laugh as he steps back into Joe’s space. Joe almost sighs in relief. “What did he do that was so obnoxious and French?” Nicky asks, looking up at Joe with bright eyes as he lifts his drinks up to his mouth and takes a cautious sip.

 _Fuck_. _He’s still gorgeous._ Even in — Joe does a quick scan of Nicky — his little tactical pants and loose t-shirt, like an REI model or something.

“He was giving me shit about my outfit,” Joe complains, and when Nicky looks only mildly upset on his behalf, he admittedly plays it up a little bit, all but pouting.

“That cruel man,” Nicky says, playing up his sympathy in response, and he gives Joe his own little once-over. _No, keeping looking_ , Joe thinks. _Look all you want._

“He made fun of my backwards cap.”

Nicky pauses. “Well…”

Joe gasps theatrically, though he can’t help his grin. “Not you, too!”

Nicky laughs, fuller this time. “Aw, mi dispiace. I’m sorry. It’s a wonderful look on you.”

Okay, Joe’s not imagining it. Nicky is definitely flirting back at him. Right?

Also, _mi dispiace._ Joe suddenly has a _need_ for this man to speak to him in Italian. Joe is fluent in three languages — Dutch, Arabic, and English — and his French is decent. But with only two Italian courses way back in secondary school under his belt, it’s safe to say that Joe barely remembers anything he learned. He almost opens his mouth to attempt it, but then realizes he has no idea what he would say and that he would much rather impress Nicky with his linguistic skills in the future than sound like a tourist in Rome, anyway.

He’ll download that stupid Duolingo app or something, if he has to. Maybe surprise Nicky with a romantic dinner at Joe’s place — flowers, wine, the works — and then whisper a little Italian in his lovely ear. Nicky will surely let Joe kiss him, then. Maybe let him do more.

Joe takes a large gulp of his coffee and winks at Nicky. “You ready to go?”

Nicky’s lips quirk up, and yeah, he’s the flirty alter-ego right now. “Come on. My car is across the street.”

As they approach St. Luke’s, Joe starts feeling an extra bout of nerves. And yes, he feels ridiculous for it, but just like he’s not ready to watch Nicky preside over Mass, he also doesn’t think he’s ready to step inside Nicky’s church just yet. He can’t even articulate why, really. It would just… make everything so much more real. Force Joe to confront the reality of what being in a relationship with Nicky would really mean for them both.

Nicky leads him right past the side of the church without a word, though, and then behind it to a cute little house, and _oh shit_ , is this –

“This is the rectory,” Nicky says, and then, just in case, “where I live.”

“Oh?” This, Joe does want to see, even if it’s church property. Because Nicky sleeps in there, and… _Wait,_ he thinks, _would that be weird?_ He takes in the cut grass and trimmed shrubs, the window boxes with an array of flowers, the LGBT flag near the porch and the prayer candles in the windowsills. It’s nice, and sweetly eccentric, and so very Nicky; and yeah, it might be a little weird to have sex in there. What if Nicky’s parishioners, like, check up on him a lot? They’ll just have to fuck at Joe’s apartment. If Nicky will ever let Joe fuck him…

Nicky doesn’t invite him in, just nods towards his car parked in the narrow driveway, and soon Joe is introduced to Nicky’s driving: quiet, careful, and fast without ever going 10 miles above the speed limit. He keeps both hands on the wheel except for when he takes a sip of his coffee, and he doesn’t use directions or play any music, instead taking the opportunity to ask Joe about his week. Joe answers with half-truths, obviously leaving out the confusion he’s been feeling over Nicky since Monday night, as his eyes constantly flit between the scenery, Nicky’s stunning profile, and the pretty red rosary beads hanging from the rear-view mirror.

When Joe asks him about his week in kind, Nicky’s answers, while genuine sounding, seem somewhat lacking as well, and Joe isn’t sure what to make of that. Is he confused about what happened, too?

But when they finally park and Nicky turns off the engine, he looks over at Joe with those _eyes_ and that Nicky-smile, and Joe is again reassured that Nicky likes him, too, and wants to be here with him. After all, he’s crazy about Joe, right?

Shy, hard to get, it doesn’t matter. Joe can work with it.

Nicky’s arm suddenly stretches out towards Joe, and Joe slams back against his seat as his breath catches in his throat and his heart starts doing double time. But when Nicky’s hand bypasses Joe’s lap in favor of opening the glove compartment, Joe has to close his eyes for a moment and exhale slowly through his nose.

 _He wouldn’t even let you kiss him_ , Joe scolds himself. Father Nicolo di Genova certainly wasn’t about to touch his dick.

When he opens his eyes again, it’s to find a tube of sunscreen being held in front of his face. “Sunscreen?” Nicky offers.

Still coming down from, from… Nicky’s _hand_ stretching over his lap, fuck, Joe’s gaze slowly slides over to Nicky, who’s watching him expectedly. Unable to help himself, Joe teases, “Nicky, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t burn as easily as you would.”

Nicky frowns at him. “You can still burn.” His eyes look concerned, bless him – _and he’s right, Yusuf_ , Joe can hear his mother saying — so Joe smiles and dutifully applies a little sunscreen before handing the tube back to Nicky. And wow, Joe never gave much thought to how, uh, sensual sunscreen can be, but watching Nicky slowly work one hand all the way down an arm and back up again, massaging the white cream into his skin, is…

_Don’t go there, Joe._

But it’s hot. Very hot. Joe’s never looked at a man’s arm and thought the word ‘elegant,’ but there’s a first time for everything. He wishes Nicky had a reason to take off his shirt just so Joe could offer to do his back.

And, you know, see Nicky shirtless.

Nicky does his neck and his face next, paying extra attention to that nose of his, before turning to look at Joe again. “Did I get it all?” he asks, gesturing at his face. And he could’ve looked in the visor mirror, but he asked Joe; and so Joe holds his breath as he bravely and oh-so carefully reaches forwards with both hands, lets the fingers of one hand lightly hold Nicky’s jaw in place while the index and middle fingers of his other hand gently massages the little leftover strip of white into the side of Nicky’s nose.

Nicky’s cheeks pinken, but when Joe glances up Nicky is staring straight at him, eyes greener than usual and pupils large.

They hold each other’s gaze for a moment, breathless, and then Nicky says, “Well,” and Joe lets go of his jaw and says, “Yep,” and Nicky tosses the sunscreen back in the glove compartment and slams it shut before they awkwardly stumble out of the car.

Back turned, Joe inconspicuously adjusts his shorts and tries to get his thoughts in order — _it’s hot out, that was hot, holy shit that was_ — before turning to see Nicky smoothing out his clothing as well. “Shall we?” Joe asks, mouth dry.

While the heat isn’t responsible for Joe’s brain melting, it really is hot. They probably should’ve started hiking earlier, he thinks. Then it hits him. “Nicky, we forgot to bring water –”

“Joe,” Nicky interrupts, and his tone sounds so distressed that Joe forgets their dilemma and hurries around the car to Nicky’s side. “I’m so sorry, but… I have to be honest with you.”

 _Oh no._ That’s never good. Is Nicky upset about the erotically charged moment they just had? Is he not crazy about Joe after all? Is there someone else?!

Nicky suddenly won’t meet his eyes, and _shit_ , _there’s someone else, isn’t there? Or, or –_

“I hate hiking.”

Joe blinks. “What?”

Seriously, he didn’t quite catch Nicky’s mumbling.

“I said I hate hiking,” Nicky says a little louder and slower, as if he’s being forced. Face properly flushed, he looks abashed at Joe before looking away again.

It takes a moment, and then Joe bursts out laughing. It startles poor Nicky, but it gets him to meet his eyes again, at least; and so Joe steps closer to him and grins. “That’s okay. So do I.”

Nicky looks adorably surprised. “You do?”

“ _Hate_ it. I mean, I love nature –”

“Me too!”

“I enjoy taking a stroll outside –”

“A nice walk, yes –”

“But I only said yes because I thought _you_ liked hiking.”

“I’m so sorry,” Nicky cries, “it’s just… everyone in LA loves hiking! Or so it seems… And I know you’re new here, so I don’t know why I –”

“Nicky,” Joe interrupts fondly. “It’s fine. It’s sweet, actually.” It’s very sweet, Nicky planning something that he thought Joe would like, even though Nicky himself hated it. Never mind that Joe was going along with it for the same reasons.

Nicky scratches the back of his neck and looks away again, and so Joe reassures him further, “Really. I just want to spend time with you — would’ve hiked the whole damn park if that’s what you wanted. But we don’t ever have to do something you don’t want to do.”

Joe doesn’t think he said anything that spectacular — he was just stating facts, really — but for whatever reason, Nicky looks at him with those big eyes like he just spouted love poetry at him. And _hey_ , if the man wants some poetry, Joe can –

“Can I tell you something else?” Nicky asks, with his cute little smile.

“Of course.” As if Joe would deny him anything.

“I have another confession to make.”

“Oh?” Joe breathes. His mind starts running like crazy, thinking of all the sexy, sexy things Nicky could confess to him. Maybe –

“You remember the Saturday when we made eye contact for the first time?”

Joe’s grin widens. “Yeah? You mean when I winked at you and you blushed so prettily for me?” And wow, he didn’t mean to say it quite like that, but he also wants to drag Nicky to the nearest suitable tree, push him against it, and do things to him that you’re _really_ not supposed to do in a park, so. “How could I forget?”

“Joe!” Nicky admonishes with wide eyes, that same blush returning to his cheeks again.

Joe can’t stop himself from adding, “Like right now,” and Nicky groans and covers his face with his hands.

Joe laughs and happily takes the opportunity to grab Nicky’s wrists and gently pull his arms back down. And okay, maybe he doesn’t let go, because why would he when he can hold Nicky’s wrists between their chests like this? It’s already been established that Joe has a thing for his wrists. “Hey,” he says gently, tries not to look closely at Nicky biting his lip. “What is it?”

“You’re the reason I started coming to that coffee shop.”

Joe blinks. “Come again?”

Nicky shrugs a little. “Well, I saw you through the window one day, and – “

“ _What_?” Joe’s eyebrows go about halfway up his forehead.

Nicky sighs, clearly embarrassed, but soldiers on, “I was walking past one Saturday morning, and I just happened to catch sight of you in the window. I thought you… well.” He smiles at Joe again. “I thought you were incredibly handsome.”

Joe’s jaw drops in a less than handsome fashion. “ _You_ saw _me_ first?”

“Yes. That’s the only reason I started coming in, so I could sneak glances at you.”

Joe is _flabbergasted_. “But I was sneaking glances at you! When were you –”

“At me?” Nicky cries, now looking as perplexed as Joe. “I thought you didn’t notice me until I sat near you that day!”

Joe lets out a little laugh bordering on hysterical. “I felt like a creep sometimes, watching you the way I did! Waiting for you, _drawing_ you –”

“How do you think I felt? Every Saturday I would stand outside and just stare at you for a few minutes before going in.”

“Nicky…” Joe laughs again. “Nicky, what’s wrong with us?”

“It’s like…” Nicky shakes his head in amusement. “What a pair we make.”

Joe and Nicky, a pair. Paired together. Joe likes the sound of that. Also, Nicky really is crazy about him! _It’s confirmed! Alhamdulillah._

He’s about to ask Nicky what he was going to say — ‘It’s like…’ what? — when Nicky asks, “Do you want to just go to the Observatory? It’s not far from here, and I think it’s about to open.”

Joe sighs in relief. “I would love to.”

This close to Nicky, hands still wrapped around his wrists, Joe’s eyes drop to Nicky’s lips as he thinks seriously about trying again for a kiss. But then a mini-van pulls up behind Nicky’s car and a large family with young children quickly begin spilling out, and so Joe holds back a sigh as he allows Nicky to pull away from him.

“Come on,” Nicky says with a soft smile, until, “Oh, my sunglasses.”

He then opens the driver’s side door and bends over into the car, and Joe spins around and smiles thinly at the dad of the family when he looks Joe’s way, even as the image of Nicky bent over with those pants stretched around his unbelievable ass is now forever seared into Joe’s brain.

_Ya Rab!_

Once Nicky has his Wayfarers on and the car locked, Joe slips on his own pair of sunglasses that were hanging from his shirt collar. Nicky gives him a wryly amused twist of his lips but starts walking without a word, and Joe stares after him for a moment, looking him up and down, before hurrying to his side.

“So,” Joe begins a minute later, trying and failing to hold back a smile. “Incredibly handsome, huh?”

“Well, I’m not sure what the point of your sunglasses is when you could just turn your hat around –”

“Hey!”

They pass a mother and her little girl coming from the opposite direction, the latter of whom steals Nicky’s attention from Joe for a moment. The little girl is already looking at Nicky, and Joe watches as Nicky smiles at her, how the girl shyly returns it. It’s adorable. Then Nicky looks back at Joe and says, “But yes, I suppose so.”

Joe is about to fish for more, partly because his ego enjoys it but mostly because he wants to hear it from Nicky, when Nicky softly adds, “To be honest, I think you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.”

Joe stares at him open-mouthed, and Nicky ducks his head, laughs, and then switches topics. “So, do you like space?”

“I love it,” Joe’s pretty sure he says. _The most handsome man he’s ever seen._ “It’s something of a pastime, I guess. Learning about it.”

“Maybe you can teach me something,” Nicky says, and Joe isn’t sure how he is expected to survive the rest of this day with Nicky looking the way he does, talking the way he does, calling Joe the most handsome man he’s ever seen, and…

It’s a lot, okay.

They chat freely as they work their way up the hill to where the Observatory sits, much of the earlier awkwardness having dissipated thanks to their honesty concerning more than one issue. Joe still struggles at times to tamp down the usual nerves from being in Nicky’s presence, though, and Nicky still has his cute little moments of shyness.

Once they’re inside the place, Joe feels like a little kid in his excitement, though he tries to keep most of that inward as he and Nicky quietly begin perusing the exhibits. “Did you know,” Joe begins after a while, having waited for a good moment to impress Nicky with a tidbit of knowledge, “that the largest known star in the universe is called UY Scuti? It’s –”

“Stephenson 2-18,” Nicky says, and Joe looks at him in surprise. “I believe that has surpassed it as the largest star in the universe, hasn’t it?”

“…Oh?”

He tries again a while later, with a more obscure fact. After reading a screen about the hidden black hole in the center of the Milky Way, followed by Nicky commenting on how scary yet fascinating black holes are, Joe casually throws out, “You know, Stephen Hawking and Kip Thorne had a wager going in 1974 about whether the first object ever considered a black hole was actually a black hole. Hawking bet it wasn’t, but he finally conceded in 1990.”

“Ah yes,” Nicky says, “Cygnus X-1.”

Joe flounders for a moment — well, so much for teaching Nicky anything here — but then he smiles. “How do you know so much about space, huh?”

“Me?” Nicky asks, and has the nerve to look surprised.

“Yes, you!”

Nicky shrugs. “Well, I suppose I’m a casual reader on the subject. Sometimes I watch documentaries.”

Joe shakes his head. _Unbelievable._ Also, he really, really wants to hold Nicky’s hand now.

Nicky smiles back at him before turning to move to the next screen, but before he can get too far, Joe reaches out with a surge of bravery and snatches his hand, pulling him back a step. Nicky stares down at their hands, then up at Joe. Without breaking eye contact, Joe tightens his hold around Nicky’s hand, making his intent clear. Only then does he ask, “Is this okay?”

It takes a moment, and then Nicky ducks his head, smiles. “Yes,” he answers softly.

“Good,” Joe says, feeling like he’s sixteen again and holding a boy’s hand for the time.

It’s all settled in Joe’s mind now. Though Nicky has his coy, flirty moments, he really is just shy most of the time, and presumably looking for Joe to take the lead.

Joe can do that.

They walk through the rest of the exhibit hand-in-hand, and if Joe occasionally catches Nicky looking down at their hands and smiling, well, he can’t really tease him about because Joe finds himself doing the exact same thing. They continue sharing facts and, because they’re Joe and Nicky, their commentary eventually delves into Muslim and Christian astronomers and scientists, into mythology and astrology and how it all plays into their respective religions today. Nicky’s intellect is truly amazing, but even more amazing is his humility and love of learning, be it from the Observatory or from Joe. Joe has a feeling that not a lot of what he’s sharing is actually news to Nicky, but Nicky looks impressed by Joe nonetheless.

And while they aren’t talking much about their personal lives or anything, Joe still feels that he’s learning just as much about Nicky as he is astronomy and physics and the like. For one thing, Joe realizes that as enigmatic as he finds Nicky, he’s practically an open book to Joe compared to strangers. With strangers he’s far more reserved, his words few and soft-spoken, his smiles hardly ever surpassing his little Nicky-smiles. In this, too, he seems happy to let Joe lead most of the time, even though Nicky can obviously speak up and make decisions for himself whenever he wants to. Joe thinks of Nicky’s work, from the pressure of leading an entire congregation to the amount of talking Nicky has to do, and he suspects it’s a relief for Nicky to just let Joe handle things for them. 

And again, Joe can do that. Is happy to do it.

But Nicky is also unfailingly polite and still manages to exude such a _warmth_ that everyone who interacts with him seems to pick up on. Women especially give Nicky this look that just screams, _Isn’t he adorable_ , an assessment that Joe obviously agrees with. Children really adore him, though, and Nicky is more open with his smiles whenever he makes eye contact with a child.

On a shallow note, Joe also notices, thanks to Nicky standing with his hands on his hips at one point, baggy t-shirt pulled just so, that while Nicky’s torso could never be considered anything but lean, there appears to be a slight softness to his belly. Joe’s dated countless gym-obsessed guys with abs like his, but he finds himself so taken with the idea of that softness, imagines running his hands over Nicky’s soft belly and hips, gripping his generous ass and thighs until his fingers leave visible indents in Nicky’s flesh.

And then he has to remind himself that he’s in public, and there are children present. _Save it for later, Joe._

After a few hours of browsing, Nicky looks up at Joe and simply says, “I’m hungry,” and Joe immediately thinks, _I need to feed this man._ It’s also so fucking cute that for the hundredth time today alone, Joe stops himself from leaning in and planting a kiss on Nicky’s lips. Instead, he squeezes Nicky’s hand and takes him to the overpriced café for a late lunch.

Once they’ve sat down with their sandwiches and bottles of water on the terrace, Nicky asks, “Do you pray salat?”

It shouldn’t surprise Joe after the knowledge and thoughtfulness Nicky’s already shown concerning his faith, but he still has to take a moment to register the fact that someone who isn’t Muslim actually thought to ask him this question. “I do,” he answers. “At least, I’m trying to get back in the habit of it.”

“I don’t know what time the next prayer is, but will you need to do it here? I can go see if there is a room, or if… I can stand by so no one disturbs you –”

“Nicky,” Joe cuts him off, smiling. He holds out a hand over the table and watches fondly as Nicky stares at it for a moment before carefully placing his hand in Joe’s. He waits until Nicky looks back up at him before he continues, “That’s very kind and thoughtful of you. But don’t worry, I try not to sweat it if I’m in public and can’t pray. I mean, I _could_ , and some highly observant Muslims would disapprove of what I’m about to say, but… I just try to do the prayers whenever I can, you know?” He squeezes Nicky’s hand again. “But thank you. Really.”

Nicky smiles back at him.

“What about you?” Joe asks. “Do you like to pray before meals? I can wait for you –”

“Unless I’m asked to or it’s at church, I just say a quick silent prayer. You don’t have to wait –”

“I’ll wait,” Joe says firmly, still smiling, and he watches as Nicky closes his eyes and bows his head a little. His lips don’t move, but after about ten seconds he quickly crosses himself before opening his eyes. He doesn’t say anything else about it, but his gaze reflects the same emotions Joe is feeling: understanding, appreciation, thankfulness.

They keep their hands to themselves and their conversation light during their meal, discussing everything from the view — Joe does _not_ get excited every time he sees the Hollywood sign, okay, no matter what Nicky says — to how Joe is finding the U.S., his likes and dislikes and which stereotypes ring true and which don’t. Nicky shares his greater knowledge and advice from living here for three years, including his visits to other states — “Don’t tell anyone you want to take a couple days and drive to Miami, Joe. Americans will _laugh at you_ ” — and “You can’t say ‘uni’ here, it’s ‘college’ unless you’re talking about a specific university,” to which Joe asked, “Says who?” and Nicky replied, “Nile,” like that’s answer enough.

That was his answer for many of Joe’s questions, actually, and it only makes Joe determined to meet her. She sounds like a wonderful friend — better than Booker, at any rate.

But the whole time they’re talking, Joe is wondering in the back of his mind if he should continue with the whole honesty thing and tell Nicky he tried to kiss him on Monday night. He feels pretty damn confident now that Nicky _would_ let him kiss him if he knew, so it must have been an accident. Joe just needs to man up and talk to him about it.

“Anyway,” Nicky is saying, “we should come back sometime in the evening and look through the telescope.”

Anytime Nicky hints at another date, Joe’s stomach flutters. “And catch a Planetarium show,” Joe adds, grinning when Nicky’s eyes light up and he nods enthusiastically.

_Do it, Joe._

“So, I have something I want to confess now,” he starts with.

Nicky’s expression quickly becomes serious. “Okay?”

“It’s nothing bad, just… the end of our date on Monday?”

“What about it?” Nicky asks. He sounds nervous, and… knowing.

Joe regards him shrewdly, but doesn’t leave him hanging, “I wanted to kiss you before you left.”

Nicky glances away, but he nods like he’s not surprised. He then looks back at Joe. “I know.”

That’s… “Okay,” Joe says. His stomach sinks. “Not that you had to –”

“I didn’t mean –”

They stop speaking at the same time, and Joe gestures for Nicky to go ahead.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to turn you down,” Nicky says. “I…” He groans softly, buries his face in his hands again.

“Hey, hey,” Joe says soothingly. “It’s okay, you don’t owe me anything. Not even an explanation. I just… thought you should know.”

Nicky lowers his hands and looks at Joe shame-faced, even though he has no reason to. “No, I know, but… I really didn’t mean to. You just paused for so long, and –”

Joe almost chokes on air. “I what?” Then he replays the scene back in his head yet again, this time trying to see it from Nicky’s point-of-view, and… _fuck_. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I?” _I paused._ Joe could slap himself.

“So I was confused,” Nicky continues, seemingly oblivious to Joe’s own embarrassment, “and then as I was turning, I realized that you had just started to lean in, but… I didn’t know what to do. So I just got in my car.” He sighs and looks down. “I… it’s been a while since I’ve dated, so I’m… out of practice. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Joe says, smiling to reassure him. He holds out his hand again, wriggles his fingers until Nicky lets out a little laugh and places his hand in Joe’s. “You have nothing to apologize for. I’m sorry for making it awkward. You just…” Joe sighs shakily, admits, “You make me nervous. In a good way.”

Nicky meets his eyes again, smiles. “Trust me, it’s mutual.” Then he insists, “I would’ve let you kiss me, though.”

Joe should be thrilled to hear that, but there’s something about the way Nicky said it, though sincere sounding, that gives Joe pause. “But did you want me to?”

Nicky opens his mouth, closes it again and swallows. Joe’s pretty sure he can hear his own heart beating, hopes Nicky doesn’t hear it, too; but he waits for Nicky, patiently.

“I _do_ want you to,” Nicky eventually says, very quietly. “But I like to take these things slow. I’ve had men kiss me on the first date without asking, and… I wasn’t ready.”

Joe feels a spike of sadness and anger simultaneously, and also wonders if Nicky is downplaying something; but he turns their hands over, tenderly runs his thumb across Nicky’s knuckles, and says, “I’m sorry that’s happened to you. Like I said before, we never have to do anything you don’t want to do, or that you’re not ready for. I promise, okay? We’ll take it as slow as you want.”

Nicky’s eyes shine wetly, and this time he is the one who squeezes Joe’s hand.

Joe’s heart feels many complicated things at once. He meant every word of it, of course he did, but he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t acknowledge his disappointment. It’s not going to be easy for him, waiting… a month? A few months? Waiting however long it takes to be physically intimate with Nicky. But Joe respects Nicky’s choice, and he really, _really_ likes Nicky, so. It’ll be worth the wait.

“Have you dated much?” Nicky asks, and Joe bites down on the insides of his cheeks as he thinks about how to answer this. Normally he’d _brag_ , but…

“Yeah,” he says simply.

To his surprise, the corner of Nicky’s mouth lifts teasingly. “Yeah?”

Joe laughs and scratches at his beard with his free hand. “Yeah, I um… I’ve dated a good bit.” He shrugs. _Honesty, Joe._ “I was kind of a slut back in uni.”

“Joe!” Nicky exclaims.

_Too honest, Joe._

“You can’t say ‘uni’ here, we’ve talked about this,” Nicky scolds him, and then they share a laugh.

“Does that bother you?” Joe asks a moment later, just to be sure. “I’ve slowed down a little” — Nicky’s eyebrows raise — “I mean, you know… I don’t get out as much now. But still.”

“No,” Nicky says, and Joe can tell he means it.

“And you?” Joe asks, a little more carefully than he normally would, after everything Nicky just told him.

Nicky looks a tad embarrassed again, but he squares his shoulders and keeps eye contact with Joe. “Not much. I had a boyfriend in London, but he was closeted, so… Then my first year in LA, I went on a few dates, and I had another boyfriend for a little while. We didn’t last too long. That’s it, really.”

“Okay,” Joe says, and makes sure to let Nicky know with his tone and expression that it really is okay. It definitely makes sense, but it also makes Joe a little apprehensive on top of everything else, just because he’s learning more and more that he needs to treat Nicky very… delicately.

Once again, though: Joe can do that.

But then Nicky says, “I’m not the easiest man to be with,” and Joe tightens his hold on Nicky’s hand.

“Don’t say that.” He knows what he means, though. As beautiful and wonderful as Nicky is, it’s probably hard to find another gay man who wants to date an Episcopal priest, who is okay with not jumping into bed right away when Nicky looks the way he does. However, “It’s their loss,” Joe declares.

Their loss, his win.

Nicky gives him that look from earlier, like Joe just recited a romantic sonnet he wrote for him, or something. “But right now,” he begins, eyes hopeful, “are you seeing anyone else? Or –”

“Only you,” Joe says swiftly, surely. There’s no time for bashfulness or teasing or misunderstandings, here. “You’re the only man I want to see.”

“Good,” Nicky says, beaming, and with that blush Joe adores. “Me too.”

“Good,” Joe echoes, and it feels _so_ fucking good to finally be on the same page.

They’re mostly quiet on the way back to the car, though for the first time it feels like a comfortable, content silence between them. “Can I drop you off at your apartment?” Nicky asks once they’re back on the road.

“If you have time, that would be great,” Joe replies, and then the car ride is mostly spent giving Nicky directions.

When Nicky pulls into the red beside Joe’s building, he looks between Joe and the building with raised brows. “Do you live alone?”

Joe has been in LA long enough to not be surprised by this question, so he _mm-hm_ s and is pleased when Nicky looks suitably impressed.

“You must do well for yourself at LACMA.”

Joe laughs. “I do okay.” He plucks Nicky’s right hand off the gear shift and envelopes it in both of his, just because he can now. “Thank you for today. It was perfect.”

“Thank you for coming with me,” Nicky says in that demure way of his, looking at Joe through his lashes.

Joe grins. “You up for another date Monday night?” Nicky nods. “Good. Well, have a nice Mass,” Joe says, then frowns. “I mean – “

“I know what you mean,” Nicky interrupts, eyes sparkling in amusement. “And thank you. I hope you have a nice evening.”

 _Oh, I will_ , Joe thinks, but he’s not going to tell Nicky about _that_. After all, he has to treat him delicately. Saying, _I’m going to jack off in the shower and imagine coming all over your sexy body_ , isn’t necessarily what Joe would consider ‘delicate.’

He’s already decided after their earlier conversation that he’s not going to try for a kiss today. But he does pull Nicky’s hand to his mouth, slowly but with purpose, giving Nicky plenty of time in case he wants to object. Then, without breaking eye contact, he presses his lips against the back of his hand.

Nicky’s eyes are wide, but the rare, beautiful grin that spreads across his face is even wider. “A gentleman _and_ a romantic,” he says once Joe releases his hand.

Joe winks. “Only for you.”

He almost tacked on ‘baby’ at the end of that sentence, but stopped himself just in time. _Delicate, Joe._

_Maybe on the next date._

They say goodbye, and then Joe gets out of the car and waves back at Nicky as he turns his flashers off and pulls out onto the road. Hands in his pockets, Joe stands there and watches Nicky’s car until it’s out of sight, this time with a satisfied smile firmly in place.

* * *

“You’re in a better mood this week,” Andy observes, a little suspiciously.

“That’s because he went out with the priest again on Saturday,” Booker says, and then pauses as Joe glares at him. “Oh. Sorry, Joe.”

Joe thinks about keeping it up, but then he leans back in the leather conference room chair with the same cat that got the cream expression he’s had since Nicky dropped him off on Saturday. “Yeah, I am in a good mood.”

Quynh, who’s apparently going to sit in on their meeting for no other reason than it’s her day off and Andy’s here, looks at him in surprise. “You slept with him already?”

“Not yet,” Joe replies. “We’re taking it slow.” He would normally be embarrassed to admit that, he thinks, had he ever agreed to take it slow with someone before. But there’s not really anything to be embarrassed about, is there? He’ll take it slow, be the perfect gentleman, wine and dine and romance Nicky. And when Nicky’s ready, the sex will be out of this world.

It’s _fine_.

“Good luck,” Andy says with a dry laugh, and Booker chortles.

“I think it’s sweet,” Quynh says with starry eyes, but then looks at Joe intensely. “You’re bringing him to the benefit gala, right?”

“Oh. I can bring someone to that?”

“Duh,” Andy says. “Bring him. Even though I’m an Atheist –”

“Oh, here we go,” Joe and Booker mutter at the same time, and this time it’s Quynh stifling a laugh as Andy glares at the two men.

“ _Even though I’m an Atheist_ , clergy are always good to have at these events. Makes rich people want to donate more, or something. Can he wear the cassock?”

“The what?” Joe asks. Then he remembers what he learned a cassock is – a priest’s wardrobe is complicated, what can Joe say. “I mean, no. I’m not going to ask him to do that.” Andy rolls her eyes. “But I’ll invite him, Boss, if” — his expression hardens as his eyes dart between the three of them — “ _if_ you three promise not to scare him off.”

“Promise,” Booker says.

“I’ll try,” Andy relents.

“How could we scare him off?” Quynh asks.

Joe sighs.

But sure, the benefit gala, two weeks from now on a Thursday night. That’s perfect timing, actually, assuming Nicky doesn’t have anything personal scheduled after evening prayer. They’ll wear suits — Nicky will be a vision in one, Joe already knows — and Nicky can watch Joe work the room as the illustrious Dr. Yusuf Al-Kaysani, simultaneously showing off for Nicky and showing off Nicky. They can also drink champagne and look at art together and quietly make fun of the more pretentious museum patrons. And since Friday is Nicky’s day off, _inshallah_ he’ll come spend the night at Joe’s after the gala, and Joe can tell Andy he’s going to mosque or something and come in late the next day. Even if they don’t have sex — _though_ _it could happen_ , Joe’s Id tells him, _a lot can happen in two weeks_ — it would still be incredible to go to bed and wake up with Nicky in his arms.

So yeah, he’ll invite him.

Booker pulls him aside after their meeting has finished and says, “By the way, Nile didn’t say much that you probably don’t already know.”

“Really?” Joe asks.

Booker shrugs. “Apparently Nicky plays his cards pretty close to his chest, but Nile is his closest friend. She said…” Booker sighs, looks embarrassed to be saying whatever he’s about to say, “She said he smiles and blushes whenever he talks about you and that he makes her pick out his outfits before he sees you.”

Joe grins. “Oh yeah? Did she say anything else?”

“Not really. Just that she’s known him ever since he’s moved here, and she’s never seen him like this over a guy before.”

Pride with a healthy dose of satisfaction courses through Joe’s veins. He already knows that the guys Nicky’s dated before have been losers, at best — obviously, for letting Nicky get away — but it’s still nice to get confirmation that Joe is different, that this beautiful thing between the two of them feels just as special to Nicky as it does to Joe.

 _Same page_ , he thinks happily.

“What did you tell her about me?”

“Just that you kind of creeped on Nicky before you finally got the courage to speak to him.”

“ _What_?”

“I’m kidding,” Booker says slowly, like Joe’s an idiot. “I said you’re a great guy and you’re crazy about him, too.”

Joe blinks. “Oh. Well, that’s –”

“Oh, and one more thing,” Booker adds conspiratorially, glancing around as Joe leans in. Then he points his finger in Joe’s face and snickers. “Now I know why you were so weird last week. That’s _brutal_ , man.”

With a conciliatory slap on the bicep, he then walks away from Joe, still laughing under his breath. Joe grits his teeth before hurrying after him.

“ _Sebastien,_ I swear to God!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, finally on the same page...
> 
> Joe Al-Kaysani: watches the _Cosmos_ documentaries.  
> Also Joe Al-Kaysani: I am a space expert.
> 
> Merry Christmas to all who celebrate!


End file.
